


On Thin Ice

by engineerleopoldfitz (aching_for_distance), Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, exchange fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aching_for_distance/pseuds/engineerleopoldfitz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up late one night, two best friends find each other once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for fitzmonkeys as part of the tumblr FitzSimmons Secret Santa exchange. Prompt was "teaching Fitz to ice skate," and of course we decided to take it to the angsty place.

Jemma glanced at the clock over her workbench, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her she was doing herself more harm than good as the luminescent 11:11 blinked back at her. She glanced back at the medical chart she’d pulled apart and was now covering the stainless steel surface, trying to force her brain back onto the matter at hand and not on a bunk tucked away near the back of the Playground where Fitz presumably had gone to sleep. 

She’d been back several weeks, and despite knowing that they wouldn’t be able to go back to anything resembling normal, Jemma had desperately wanted as much. But one look at Fitz when she’d returned, his inconsistent gaze and restless fidgeting had told her that it was a pipedream. The man she’d returned to wasn’t the one she had left, and that realization broke her heart a little more each day. 

With a frustrated sigh Jemma rifled through the papers, eventually finding the notes she’d been looking for, detailing what had been done so far with Fitz’ physical therapy. The slightly raised ridges of ink whispered against her fingertips as she scanned past her neat cursive detailing the bit of work she’d been able to do with him before she left, basics of relearning to work his fingers around larger stress balls and working his way to finer items like eating and writing utensils, to find Skye’s more manic scrawl. Jemma had to squint a bit to decipher the words, but from what she gathered, after she left, there’d been a setback; the notes were inconsistent, and she was dismayed to note that at times several days, if not an entire week, had passed between his sessions. 

Eventually, though, it seemed that Skye had righted the ship (or had Fitz just decided it was time?) and there were daily entries. Skye’s notes were far more entertaining as she detailed the progress they made, and Jemma found herself smiling softly, imagining Fitz whining at their friend and teammate as she forced him to use handgrips to strengthen his hands. Slowly, she worked her way through the file, searching desperately for a way she could work her way back into his good graces as the hours whiled away. 

On the other side of the Playground, the aforementioned engineer was creeping through darkened hallways, the worn soles of his beat up Chucks nearly soundless on the floor, even with his shuffling steps. Skye had done her best, he supposed, in Jemma’s absence, wheedling him into therapy and letting him be when he snapped and snarled her out of his sickroom. But in the long run, Fitz was torn between wishing Jemma had stayed - she’d never have let him quit like he had - and his resentment that she’d abandoned him just when he needed her most. 

If there was anything in his life he’d ever relied on outside his own abilities, it was Jemma’s presence. He’d never imagined his life without her, which was probably for the best, because reality had been even worse. And now she was back, and every time he flinched or shook or stumbled, he felt like even more of a failure and even less able to be anything to her, even just her partner. 

Now Fitz needed help and he knew it. But the rest of the team were tied up with missions and he certainly couldn’t ask Jemma to act as his physical therapist. Not when he so desperately wanted to be the Fitz she wanted. The one that really had died, down there on the ocean floor. And so he was here, sneaking through hallways and outside to the bloody ice rink Skye had introduced him to. The Playground, indeed. She’d gone exploring and found all sorts of things, apparently, that May had been happy to put to use in training the young Agent - like a climbing wall, an indoor track, and a built in obstacle course. The ice rink’s purpose, however, was still a mystery to him. 

Skye had acquired a set of skates for him from somewhere, and hauled him out onto the ice more than once to try and help with his balance. 

He had acquired countless bruises in proving to her that he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be perched on quarter-inch steel blades. 

Fitz honestly didn’t even know why, of all things, he was torturing himself now by trying to skate again. He was moving better than he had been then, but it didn’t mean he was ready for this. He was stubborn and proud though, and he desperately wanted to be able to say there was something impressive he’d managed to do solely on his own. 

Shortly after midnight, Jemma gave up on her review of Fitz’ file. Hunched over as she’d been, her shoulders had tightened painfully, pulling her attention away from the task at hand. It was a common problem for her, one that Fitz had alleviated with quick study break back rubs when they’d been up late, both at SciTech and SciOps. Her first reaction was to smile at the warm memory, but quickly fell when her memory caught up with her. 

Fitz wouldn’t be giving her any back rubs anymore. 

He couldn’t even look at her without… Jemma teared up just thinking about it. Despite being certain that her brilliant best friend was still with her, it was hard to watch Fitz struggle. He had been, for lack of a better description, utterly brilliant when they were at the Academy. easily fielding questions and showing up professors and cadets alike. That hadn’t endeared him to many of their classmates, but Jemma had found him fascinating, and when, by chance, they’d been paired together and he had made a joke about the professor’s lab instructions, she was charmed. And so, they’d embarked on a beautiful, fruitful partnership…

… which had fallen apart on the bottom of the ocean floor, a few miles off the coast of Cuba. 

Shaking herself, Jemma neatly arranged the papers, shut off the lights, and quietly slipped out of the lab and down to her bunk. She had nearly made it when a quick glance down a hall she’d never happened to wander down made her pause. 

There was a light down there.

That was odd, and before she could stop herself, Jemma found her feet propelling her down the corridor, away from her room and toward whoever it was that was clearly still up. 

Fitz flipped on the lights for the rink. It was offset enough from the Playground enough that he didn’t think anyone would notice, and he wasn’t quite foolish enough to try to navigate the snowy path in the dark. The wind cleared the snow off the ice before, and he hoped the same was true tonight. 

It took him a bit to get out there, fumble through lacing up the skates, and then totter over to the gap and onto the ice. Moving was a struggle, because even though Fitz knew and understood the physics of skating, his body simply wouldn’t cooperate. The smooth, gliding motion, pushing off for each sweep, just wasn’t happening. And his shuffling walk, taking small steps to account for his muscles’ weakness, wasn’t working either. His center of gravity was off, and the imbalance was frustrating him to no end. 

Fitz climbed back to his feet for the sixth time, trembling and on the verge of giving up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself on the slick blades, face turned up to the dark sky as if it might grant him some level of patience - or balance. When he opened them, he wasn’t alone. 

Once she’d reached the end of the corridor, Jemma realized she was in a mud room of some sort, with boots and jackets neatly lining one wall. The light source was coming from outside, and pressing her face against the glass panes, she gasped. There was an ice rink out there. Small, but well kept, and playing host to one solitary figure. 

One slowly moving, very familiar figure. 

She watched him another few beats, fighting down her urge to run out to him when she saw him fall to the ice. Ultimately, she was glad she’d resisted the impulse, as she watched Fitz, slowly but surely, lever himself up, off the slick surface and onto the blades of his skates. Watching him, Jemma had to applaud Skye; she’d found something physical to do, something that would require his entire body working in concert, and had somehow convinced the prickly Scot to give it a go. Yes, his movements were nowhere near as smooth as they would have been a year ago, but it was progress. 

Before she could over think or talk herself out of it, Jemma tugged one of the heavy parkas off a hook, and bundled up against the chill, trudged out toward the rink. She was careful to stay at the very edge, half in shadow, not wanting to distract him or cause him to stop what he was doing. 

In a perfect scenario, she would have remained hidden, and Fitz would have had his quiet as he put himself through his paces, but it wasn’t meant to be. After picking himself up from his last fall, he caught sight of her, and stood frozen at the edge of the rink. The moment played out between them, neither clearly certain of what to do or say, two friends caught on the edge of twin precipices, afraid of the never-ending drop before them. 

Steeling herself, Jemma took first one, then another, step toward the ice, coming into the light to face him. Stopping a few feet away, footing unsure on the slick surface, Jemma forced her hands out of her pockets and spoke. “Hi, Fitz… I was just… I thought…” She swallowed heavily. There was no way one, simple question should be this difficult. Not between them, after all they’d been through. 

“I saw the light and got curious. Can- May I?”

Fitz felt far more frozen than the chilly air would account for as Jemma picked her way across the ice toward him. He hadn’t expected anyone to find him, but of course Jemma would manage it. That seemed to be their habit now. Instead of gleefully and somehow gracefully tripping over each other physically and mentally and verbally, they were in each other’s space at the worst time, always a beat out of sync. 

His first instinct was to snap that he could do it, snarl until Jemma backed off and stopped implying that he was somehow less than before. But here in the quiet and cold, those wide hazel eyes fixed on him, something shifted. Or perhaps he heard something new in her voice. 

Jemma’s soft question was an offer. Not a demand, not a suggestion that he needed the help, even though he knew that was likely there somewhere under her concern. For the first time since he woke from his coma, Fitz looked at Jemma and saw his best friend staring back. A little more nervous than she should be, but given everything else he could overlook that. No, it was the slight tip of her head and the outstretched hands, the questioning lilt in her voice, that threw him back months, to before.

There might be a fine line between offering partnership and offering assistance, but Jemma was finally on the side where he could reluctantly accept her help. Fitz drew in a slow breath, fogging the air between them with his exhale, before he nodded and reached back, fingers laying gently over hers. Fitz didn’t want to be babied. Just the gentle pressure of Jemma’s hands under his gave him the sensation of balance, and his hesitant expression smoothed out a bit. 

“I, uh… My balance is off. An’ my muscles are still twitchy. Is made this… Skating, I mean… Kinda difficult.” It might have been stating the obvious - like Jemma didn’t know exactly what was wrong with him - but the words rolled nervously off his tongue anyway. 

His fingers were cold, so much colder than she’d ever remembered them being, but relief flooded through Jemma as he reached for her. It had been months, but felt like years, since Fitz had willingly touched her first, and she wanted to savor the moment. She risked a glance up at his face, and smiled as bright sapphire eyes met her own. He looked like her friend again, and it sloughed away the last of her nervous energy. 

Fighting down the impulse to explain why, exactly, his balance was still so wonky, Jemma nodded instead, taking a small half step backward. Her movement was measured, slow enough to keep from startling him but not so careful as to make him feel coddled, and her grin grew as he followed her easily. “I know,” she said, eyes still trained on his face, remapping it, relearning old features she loved dearly, and memorizing the way he looked in the moment. “But this will help.” 

“I have to say, this is a rather perfect exercise,” Jemma looked downward, both to cover her blush and to check that her next step was free of impediments. “Forces everything to work together instead of training only one body part at a time.” 

Fitz’ expression stilled, his mouth going tight at the reminder of exactly why this was so difficult for him now. “Yeah, I’m aware,” he muttered, following Jemma across the ice. It really was easier with her there. Skye had been on skates too, gleefully skating backward when she tried to help him, inevitably going too fast and leaving him floundering. 

Jemma, in boots on the ice, was both slower and more careful and also not grabbing onto him or trying to tug him along with her as Skye had done now and then. With her hands braced under his, Fitz felt more stable - by laws of science, a structure with four supports was more stable than with only two, thus freeing him to focus on other mechanics than just keeping himself upright. 

It seemed like only a minute had passed, and Fitz was surprised when he realized a little while later that they’d made a full loop of the small rink. He glanced over at the gap in the rail, toward Jemma, and then back over his shoulder. It was the turn to look back that did him in, unthinkingly shifting and changing his posture without accounting for his uncertain position. Fitz was in a heap on the ice before he’d had a chance to do more than suck in a gasp, and even Jemma’s grab for him wasn’t fast enough. 

“Fitz!”

Jemma’s reaction was just a tad too slow, her fingers brushing against the synthetic material of his sleeve as he fell backward. He landed with a painful “oomph,” causing her to wince in sympathy. Without thinking twice, she gave into her natural inclination to help, and stepped forward as she reached for him. 

Catching him about the wrist, Jemma braced her feet and held on, wanting to give him a support so he could get his feet back under him. “Are you alright?” she asked, voice a bit breathless with worry. “I’m sorry I didn’t manage to- It was all just so fast-”

“Jemma!” Fitz’ voice was sharp, and the rebuke for her overprotectiveness was intense, even in that single word. The last thing he wanted was for her to hover and cling, especially when it was his own damn fault. He should have known better than to twist about while he was on skates. Jemma already knew he was damn near useless. Falling in front of her, confirming he was still inept at simple things like staying on his feet, was humiliating. 

Unable to meet her eyes, he caught her hands and carefully got to his feet again, angling the skates carefully under him as he straightened. “I’m fine,” he muttered preemptively, knowing Jemma would try to fuss again. “Let’s just go, alright?” He was bound and determined to make it around the rink one more time before he called it quits for the night. 

Jemma flinched at his tone, his rebuke calling her guilt out of hiding to creep up her spine and remind her that he was only having this trouble because he had decided she was worth more than he was. That her life was somehow worthier of being saved than his. How wrong he was. She ruminated on that as she silently held out her hands to him once more and slowly restarted their trek around the edge of the rink. 

With each careful pace, she recounted all of the arguments she’d thought of while he’d been in a coma, all of the things she had wanted to say to him when he’d woken. That he was bloody brilliant. That the man who saved Director Fury’s life deserved to live above all others. That he kept her unadulterated enthusiasm in check, and without him, she never would have survived the Academy. That without his technological know-how, they never would have created the ICERS. Or an antiserum for that damn virus. Without him, she would have died long before Ward had attempted to kill him. 

Fitz had saved her, first from herself and later from other threats. His care and affection had always been there, but she’d been too close to see it and now- now, she’d ruined that. That ship had sailed, and it hurt Jemma to know that in the process of losing Fitz, she had hurt him terribly. That was really the worst part of it for her. 

Thoroughly distracted by her morose train of thought, Jemma didn’t notice where she was leading Fitz until it was too late. His skate hit a rough patch, sending him careening to the ice once more. She could hear the way his knee cracked against the unforgiving surface, and moved to help him more quickly this time, but was waved off by her surly, sullen friend. Using the makeshift fence, Fitz pulled himself to his feet, and leaning against the railing on his forearms, paused to catch his breath. 

Not wanting to leave him on his own, Jemma cautiously approached him, and slowly laid her hand, palm wide and open, against his back. “Fitz?” she ventured, trying to keep her voice gentle despite her heart still pounding from the fright of watching him fall. “Perhaps… perhaps we should just go back in. It must be well after one now, and-” The words died on her tongue as she felt his back go stiff, even beneath the thick down, and Jemma paused, wondering if she should pull away. “Or, I could just go,” she offered, worried that all he wanted was his solitude. “I didn’t mean- I shouldn’t have interrupted you anyway.” 

“Damnit, Jemma! Stop, would y’? Just stop. I’m no’ bloody helpless!” Fitz blurted out, frustrated and hurting. His knee ached fiercely from where it had cracked on the ice, and the resignation of knowing he’d never be good enough for her again rushed in. He looked over at her, blue eyes blazing even in the bright fluorescent lights beaming down on the rink. “I’m not him anymore, but that doesna mean I canna do anythin’ for myself!” 

She was staring at him, clearly uncertain, and he saw the impact as his words hit her. Fitz had been so careful not to watch her since she got back from her mission, too scared of seeing the pity and pain from when he’d first woken up. Or at least, careful not to watch her when she was looking back at him. Any other time he drank her in like a lost man finding an oasis in the desert. This time though, he saw the shift in her expression, from concern to hurt, and knew he’d just deliberately put it there. 

“Fuck, I’m so-” Fitz swore under his breath and then started to apologize, but caught himself, hesitating again. He wasn’t sorry for what he said - it was the truth, even if he’d snapped it at her. The last half hour, or however long it had been, was the closest they’d been to being FitzSimmons again since the medpod, and Fitz grasped desperately, hoping he might somehow get that back. 

“No. I’m not sorry. Well - I’m sorry I snapped at y’. I’m no’ sorry I said it,” Fitz rambled out, almost stumbling over his words in his hurry to get them out before she interrupted the way she always seemed to now. “I spent all the time y’ were gone tryin’ t’ accept that I’m no’ the same. Jem-” He startled over her name, wondering when it had started to feel foreign on his tongue again. 

Steeling himself, Fitz carefully straightened and shifted to face Jemma. She was still staring at him, hazel eyes wide and hurt, head tipped up a bit to make up for the added difference in their height from his skates. She still looked like his Jemma, rather than the post-medpod Jemma, her expression softening a little when he called her Jem, and that was what gave him the courage to continue. 

“Jemma, I dinna care if y’ dinna love me back. I can get past that, if it means we can just be friends again, but I canna take your pity. I know I’m different now- Hell, you’re different, too, since y’ got back from HYDRA. But if- if y’ canna accept me as I am. Like this,” he said, gesturing to his shaky limbs, “Then maybe we should just stop tryin’. It hurts too bloody much an’ all we’re doin’ is makin’ each other miserable.” He was breathing heavily by the time he finished, one hand white knuckled as he gripped the top of the wall, nervous and waiting. 

“How can you- I, mean, you’re-”

Jemma found herself tripping over her words, her tired mind moving far too sluggishly to permit her to keep up with Fitz’ tirade. She felt more than heard his words, each syllable striking sharply. She had never meant to make him feel so small, but his abrupt confession had given her no time to react, no time to even consider the long-term consequences of what might happen. Everything that day had been instinct: grab Fitz, suck down oxygen, get to the surface. 

It was only after, when he was in a coma and she spent her days staring at the same four nondescript walls that she even had a chance to think about what he meant to her. Fitz was a lot of things. Stubborn and a bit eccentric at times, but the best lab partner she’d ever had. The one person she could rely on, outside of her family, to put her interest ahead of his own. Her time with both SHIELD and HYDRA had taught her the importance of that, and she had long known, without a doubt, that she would do the same for him. The longer she’d had to think about it, the more she realized, she had been loving, and loved by, Fitz all along. They had just slipped into it so naturally she hadn’t noticed, and shame filled her as she realized she very well might have been taking him for granted. 

That was why she had run after he’d woken up, but those hopeful blue eyes had chased her all the way to HYDRA. She’d wanted to give him a chance to come into his own once more, thinking he’d needed her to go, but Jemma Simmons had been terribly wrong. Her shoulders straightened as she craned her neck to look up at Fitz, and moving to anchor herself on the fence with one hand, she fished the other in the front of his parka, intent on keeping him in place. 

Pushing up onto her toes so she was scant inches from Fitz, her tone quiet but determined, Jemma whispered, “I never want to quit trying with you, Fitz. Any version of you.” She took a moment, hazel eyes scanning his face as she steeled herself to take the biggest risk of her life, and pulled Fitz to her, her mouth finding his haphazardly in the cold winter air. 

Fitz braced himself, physically and mentally, especially upon realizing that he’d managed to render Jemma Simmons entirely speechless. That never boded well, watching her mouth work soundlessly, watching emotions flit across her face. She’d never been good at hiding things - and it was likely for the best that Coulson hadn’t told him she was going undercover with HYDRA, because he’d have worried himself sick over her. 

For now though, he had to stand there, silent and still, while Jemma worked through whatever it was she wanted to say. Certainly, as tired as he was and the way his knee pained him at the moment, he wasn’t going to be able to get around her to head back inside until Jemma was ready to let him go. 

At the silence stretched out, Fitz’ heart sank. He’d taken a chance and ruined everything. He shouldn’t have thrown all that at her in one go. He opened his mouth to apologize again, his fingers still clinging to the wall, when she reached for him, and the rush of hope that surged through him when Jemma’s fingers caught in his coat made him feel like he was suddenly standing in summer sunlight, warm and content.

Between her soft words and the press of her mouth against his, Fitz’ hands flapped helplessly in the air for a moment before he caught Jemma’s waist and latched on as he kissed her back. It was a perfect moment of understanding between them after the months of disconnection, and the only thing that could possibly ruin it was almost exactly what happened. Between Jemma, on her toes in her boots, and Fitz, especially unwieldy after an hour on skates and a bruised knee, the least bit of movement - namely, both of them clutching at each other - sent both of them crashing to the ice. 

The only thing that saved Fitz from a nasty crack on the back of his head was the cushioning of Jemma’s hand, which was tangled in his curls, and then she landed on him, saving her from further injury. Her yelp as her knuckles were caught between his head and the unforgiving ice had him sputtering out apologies and grabbing for her, concerned. 

“Shite, Jemma… I’m so sorry. Are y’ okay? Le’ me see,” he fussed, trying to get a look at her hand. Christ, if he’d managed to damage her just when things might actually be starting to work out, he’d never forgive himself. 

Jemma’s eyes went wide with surprise when she felt her legs slip out from under her, and she hissed in pain as her knuckles scraped against the ice. As soon as she managed to catch her breath, she carefully adjusted her position, worried she had hurt Fitz and intent on checking him, when he cut her off with a barrage of questions. His concern for her was palpable, just another outward sign of his affection for her, and Jemma felt herself warm to the tips of her toes. 

“Fitz,” she began, mirth evident in her near-breathless voice as she shifted herself to the side and carefully slipped her hand out from behind his head. She held her battered hand up so he could see that the damage was minimal, nothing more than a few scrapes and a bruise or two. “I’m fine, I promise.” Jemma’s reassurances were lost with her giggles, the result of months’ worth of tension breaking in the space of a few minutes. 

She collapsed against him, still laughing, and tucked her head against his chest. Nothing was resolved between the two of them, not by a long shot, but Jemma at least felt certain now that they were pointed in the right direction. And what was most important, that they were together. Pulling herself up his prone form, Jemma kissed him once more, taking her time, heedless of the snow, wind, and cold as she learned what Fitz’ lips felt like against her own. 

He could hear the laughter in her voice almost immediately, and Fitz stilled beneath her, stung. How could Jemma, of all people, laugh at his ineptitude? She waved her hand in front of his face, and Fitz flinched at the reddened skin - she was certain to have nasty bruises there by morning, being caught between the ice and his head without any sort of cushioning. Her fingers would have been curved to cradle the back of his head, leaving the knuckles protruding on impact, but she was still laughing, giggling even, as she buried her face against his parka. 

“Jemma-” Fitz started, his voice low and hurt, but Jemma lifted her head then, her face still lit with laughter, and to his shock, fondness. Hope. Maybe even a little love. Whatever he was going to say was immediately swept away when she leaned in to kiss him again and it suddenly became real to Fitz that Jemma Simmons had kissed him. Twice. And was still kissing him, against all odds. 

When she drew back again, both of them were breathless and grinning at each other like fools. Fitz felt the emotional weight lift off his chest for the first time in months, despite the physical weight of Jemma still plastering him against the ice. “I, uh… hi?” Fitz stuttered out, and then started giggling himself, much as Jemma had done shortly before. “For two… supposed… geniuses,” he managed to get out between his laughs, “We’re idiots. An’ is... bloody... freezin’... down here!” 

Taking the hint, Jemma slipped off of Fitz completely and worked her way to her feet. Anchoring herself to the fence once more, she reached a hand down to him, gratified when Fitz easily accepted it and allowed her to help him back to his feet. Where before his gaze had been fiery, fueled by pent-up frustration, now they were bright with hope, and Jemma easily wrapped her arms around his middle, wanting to hold him for a moment more before they had to go back into the base. 

“I thought you Scots were impervious to the cold,” Jemma teased, chin pressed into the spot just above his heart and neck complaining as she looked up at him. She was just thinking that she might be perfectly happy to stand there forever, pressed close to Fitz as they exchanged jokes, when the wind picked up, causing a shiver to run through her. Jemma separated from him regretfully, her fingers finding his and snugging around them as she slowly began to pick her way over the ice toward the Playground. 

“C’mon. I think we could both use some dry clothes and tea.” Jemma risked a shy glance back at Fitz, and wondered what, exactly, he was thinking. Things weren’t anywhere near perfect, but at least together they stood a better chance of sorting things out. And, if they were really lucky, a happy ending to boot. 

Along with the wind came a burst of snow, and it took Fitz a moment to realize there were actually flakes drifting down from the sky, not just the ones the chilly breeze had picked up from what was already on the ground. “To cold, yes. To snow? No’ so much, lass,” Fitz said, shivering, “And layin’ on ice is a bit much, even for me.” The parka was keeping his upper body warm enough, but his jeans were damp and soon to be freezing now, after falling several times and then having Jemma land on him. 

Still, despite everything, Fitz couldn’t find it in him to be even a little grumpy. Jemma had kissed him. And she wanted to try and make things work. Even with his awkward gait, Fitz felt like he was walking on air as she led the way back into the mud room and they started shedding their winter gear. Heedless of the mess they were leaving behind, Fitz shucked the skates and the parka and caught Jemma’s hand, still grinning as he led her through the halls to his room. 

He hesitated at the door, considering. Jemma was shivering too, but he needed to fully change. “Give me a minute, lass, then y’ can come in.” Fitz slipped into his room and scrambled through changing his clothes, stripping off his wet trousers and damp jumper and shrugging into a long sleeved tee and flannel pajama pants. Letting Jemma in, he gave her a sheepish smile as he dug in a drawer for thick woollen socks. “Are y’ okay, or do y’ need somethin’ t’ change into, too?” 

Fitz bit his lip waiting for Jemma’s answer, suddenly nervous again. Once upon a time, Jemma had practically lived in his heavy jumpers during the winter, but he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Not since before the Bus, at least. 

Jemma stood in the hall, gaze firmly focused on the scuffed toes of her Chucks as she waited for Fitz to permit her into his room. Her anxiety grew with each passing moment, wondering what was running through his mind as he changed, and worrying whether someone would happen into the hall and ask her what, exactly, she was doing skulking outside Fitz’ door in the wee hours of the morning. 

Fortunately, he ushered her in with a shy smile before such a thing could come to pass, and she took a moment to look about. The space was what she expected it to be, and her uncertain smile grew as she realized just how much of her Fitz was in the space. Jemma hadn’t expected him to change dramatically, but it was reassuring to see bits and pieces of him that she remembered from their days at the Academy still there. 

“If you could spare something warm, I’d appreciate it.” Jemma whispered, almost afraid that speaking too loudly would break the enchantment that often seemed to cling to being awake while the rest of the world slumbered. When Fitz turned back to his closet, she toed off her shoes and fidgeted, the damp denim beginning to cling uncomfortably to her warming skin. 

He held his breath as Jemma peered around at his room, only then realizing she actually hadn’t been in here. He’d still been in the sickbay when she left for her mission and by the time she got back things had been so stilted and awkward there’d never been a reason for her to come in there. Fitz shrugged a little awkwardly when her eyes landed on him, one corner of his mouth quirking sheepishly. His TARDIS, their photos, a few other mementos… they’d been in his room as long as he could remember, and Fitz hadn’t seen any reason to remove them. Even with things being odd between them, it didn’t negate Jemma being his best friend for a decade. 

Turning to rummage in his closet, Fitz came up with one of his navy cardigans - the heavier one he’d abandoned in favor of a lighter knit, better suited to working in the lab. This one, thick and cable knit, should work well enough for Jemma to wrap up in. “Here, lass,” he murmured, offering it to her. “That’s probably the warmest thing I have.” 

After a moment, watching her fidget, toes wiggling against the floor, Fitz raised an eyebrow. “Do y’ want t’ get out of those jeans, too?” His cheeks flushed, realizing how that sounded and hurried to correct himself. “I just meant… I didna realize your jeans were… Shite, that’s even worse. You know what I mean. If you’re still cold, I can find y’ somethin’ else t’ wear. Tha’s all. An’ socks. Y’ should have warm socks, too.” Embarrassed, he turned to dig in his dresser, coming up with a pair of pajama pants that were a bit snug on him and the aforementioned socks. 

“There. Take those.” Fitz shoved them into Jemma’s hands along with the cardigan and fled into the hallway to wait. 

The only thing keeping Jemma from laughing aloud at Fitz’ adorably flustered countenance was the fact that she’d firmly planted her teeth in her lower lip. As soon as he was out of the room and the door was latched behind him, she gave herself permission to smile widely, her head wagging a bit as she stripped out of her wet things. The reaction was just so Fitz, she couldn’t help but be charmed. 

The bottoms were a bit snug about her hips, but her camisole and the cardigan were long enough to mostly cover that fact, and once she was dressed (socks and all), she gingerly opened the door and stuck her head into the hall. Fitz had unwittingly mirrored her position from a few moments before, head down and fidgeting a bit as he waited. The smile he gave her when he looked up melted her heart, and Jemma swung the door open more fully, allowing him to see her ensemble. 

“Thank you, Fitz,” she said, returning his grin and stepping to the side so he could enter his own room if he chose. She wasn’t sure if he’d want to stay here, away from prying eyes, or if he’d be more comfortable in the commons, but she wanted to give him the choice. They had plenty to talk about, and she wanted Fitz to be at ease when they really got into it, if they got into it at all tonight. 

Fitz let out a quiet little sigh at the sight of her before the grin split his face. Something about seeing Jemma wrapped in his clothes, her feet padding soundlessly across the bare floors, had him feeling more than a little possessive. He knew they still had a lot to work out before he could call Jemma his again, even just as friends. Even though when he wasn’t careful, Fitz still thought of her that way and probably always would, regardless of what happened between them. 

He glanced past her into his room and briefly had the same thought Jemma did, considering where to settle. As much as he wanted to be able to curl up together in his bed and watch a movie or something, Fitz wasn’t sure they were there yet. Jemma had kissed him, yes, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still things to figure out. His little rant out there on the ice had proven they had things that needed to be said to each other. And Jemma had promised she wanted to work things out, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still hurt each other in the meantime. 

So instead of ushering Jemma back inside, Fitz reached out and shut the door behind her. “C’mon. Let’s go down t’ the lab. No one’ll be there this time o’ night.” They’d started their friendship in a lab, and something about having this conversation there felt right. Either they’d end their friendship, renew it, or move forward. Either way, there would be some sort of closure to this awkward limbo they’d been living in. 

~*~

After months of training with May, Skye thought nothing of waking up well before dawn. Now, if only she could get her charge to feel the same way. Dragging Fitz from his bed to begin his first round of physical therapy was still a struggle, although she thought she’d had some success when she’d brought him fresh cinnamon rolls. Making a mental note to ask the Koenigs to keep their supply of baked goods fresh, Skye trotted down the hall to Fitz’s room. She gave him the courtesy of knocking twice before opening the door, having learned that simply knocking wasn’t enough to drag him from bed. 

But, there was no Fitz. 

Feeling uneasy, she turned and made her way to the mudroom. Fitz had become increasingly belligerent in their sessions, insisting that he could do more on his own than she was permitting, and Skye had a very real fear that he had done something foolish. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his skates were in their usual corner, but frowned when she looked closer. 

It seemed that they had been thrown into the corner, instead of being placed there neatly, as was his wont. The coats were in disarray as well, and one of the pairs of boots were drunkenly propped against the wall. Anger rising, not only at the fact that Fitz had clearly gone out on his own, despite her forbidding him from doing so, but had also left a mess for her to clean up, Skye turned on her heel and made for the lab, intent on screaming at one engineer. 

May was a silent sentinel outside the lab, positioned in the shadows and down the hall where she could both see in, and see around. The lights and faint murmur of voices had drawn her attention when she’d headed out for her early morning workout, and after a glance inside, she’d opted to stand guard against any interruptions. It wasn’t just that the team needed FitzSimmons. 

Fitz and Simmons needed each other.

And if she could do something to help that process along - and it certainly appeared they were well on the way to reconciling - it seemed like the least she could do. 

Inside the lab, under May’s unseen eye, Fitz was fiddling with the DWARFs, slowly making adjustments to the flight mechanics. It took a lot longer than it used to, but given that Jemma was perched up on the edge of the lab bench, giggling at something he’d said, Fitz hardly noticed the passing of time. She made a quip that had him grinning up at her, his fingers stilling over Sneezy’s metal innards as he broke into laughter. 

The older agent, jaded as she was, couldn’t help smiling, too. 

Skye flounced into view at the end of the hall, clearly irritated and looking for someone - May could only assume it was Fitz - and held up a hand, making her protegee skid to a silent halt. Jerking her chin toward the window, May redirected Skye, watching as the intimate scene inside registered to the young Agent. 

Skye permitted herself a moment to smile, happy to see that her friends had seemed to resolved whatever it was that had been keeping their relationship stilted and awkward, before her irritation crept back to the fore. 

“Hey!” she shouted, open palm striking the lab window sharply and causing the scientists to jump apart. Her serious demeanor melted entirely as she watched the blush creep up their necks to color their cheeks, and her tone quickly shifted to teasing. “Don’t you dare think, Leopold, that just because this is resolved you don’t have to clean up after yourself! That mudroom is a disgrace.” 

Fitz glanced at Jemma, abashed, and then at the clock, only then realizing just how late - or rather, early - it was. “I’ll deal with it, Skye,” he said immediately, only stuttering slightly over his words. Fitz was so used to arguing with Skye he’d gotten past that quickly when snarking at her. “We were a bit distracted, tha’s all. Uh- Jem, maybe we should go do that now?” he suggested, shy now that he knew they had an audience, especially May. And a little grumpy that Skye had interrupted, but trying to hide it. 

Jemma nodded, keeping her gaze directed downward in a vain attempt to keep Skye from seeing the rather striking shade of red her cheeks had managed to achieve. She’d never be embarrassed of Fitz, or of being with him, but it would have been nice to keep their private time just that - private. 

Her expression grew affectionate when she realized just how bashful Fitz had become, knowing that they had the attention of their teammates. She snaked a hand down to wrap her fingers around his forearm, taking a moment to glance over his fingers as they absentmindedly fiddled with the DWARF, and tugged lightly. 

“Let’s go,” she insisted, jumping down from her perch on the counter. “With two of us, we’ll make easier work of it.”

He let Jemma tow him out of the lab, threading between a grinning Skye and a stoic May, but the older woman reached out as they tried to pass by. “The past few months have been painful enough. Don’t screw it up again. Either of you.” May pinned them both with a look and then eyed Skye. “I believe you have things to do, rookie. Things that don’t involve harassing FitzSimmons.” 

The withering look she earned from her SO when she rolled her eyes didn’t even phase Skye, beyond the perfunctory grunt of surprise and a slight grumbling. She waited for May to get a few paces away before leaning in to wrap both of the scientists in a brief, but still tight, hug. 

“She’s just mad because she lost the bet she and Coulson had on you two. She’ll get over it.” Skye released them and turned to trot off down the passageway after the specialist, but quickly turned back to throw in one last opinion. “She’s right, though. Don’t screw this up.” That said, Skye turned away once more, and hurried off to her own training session, a stupidly happy smile playing across her face. 

Fitz led the way back to the mudroom to straighten their mess. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Skye had made it out to be and they were both stifling yawns by the time they were done and heading back toward their rooms. His was closer, and Fitz hesitated before reaching for the doorknob, vividly remembering all the nights when she’d been gone and he’d only had his illusion of her for company. 

A part of him was afraid that if he let Jemma go and went to sleep that he’d wake to find everything had reverted to what it had been yesterday, awkward and uncertain. Painful. Given May’s unsubtle words, Fitz gathered his courage. “I, um… I wouldna mind company. If y’ want t’ stick around, that is.” 

Jemma’s soft smile was conflicted, a mix of both her pleasure at being there with him and pain that Fitz was still so uncertain where she was concerned. Stepping near to him, heedless of personal space or what it looked like to the other agents who might pass by, she slipped her hand into his and pressed up slightly onto the balls of her feet to kiss him. It was the barest brush of lips, but it was declarative, that she meant to be in this for the long run. 

“Of course I want to stick around,” she murmured, eyes focused on Fitz as she dropped back to her heels. “That is, as long as you’ll have me.” 

Fitz’ eyes lit up with hope, bright and almost innocent in his happiness, as a little smile appeared on his face. “As long as I’ll have y’?” he asked, almost disbelieving. He slowly reached for her, drawing Jemma in, but Fitz’ tone betrayed a bit of nerves as he looked down at her from a scant distance. “I’d keep y’ forever, if y’ let me.” 

For the first time that evening, and hopefully the first of many times in the future, Fitz tipped his head down to kiss Jemma, his lips gentle and searching against hers. His free hand fumbled behind him for the doorknob, and eventually he was able to get it unlatched, despite the distraction of kissing Jemma. 

She gave them both a moment to just enjoy the kiss, but as soon as she heard the door click open, Jemma herded them both across the threshold. Forever was on the table, and as she fumbled behind her to shut the door, Jemma grinned with the thought that she was very much looking forward to discovering just what forever with Fitz would entail. 

The door clicked shut behind them with soft, definite finality, and Fitz grinned against Jemma's lips. breaking the kiss as he broke into soft, affectionate laughter. "Alright then, lass, forever it is."


End file.
